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Lying in my bed with my fat cat “Cupcake” resting nearby, nestled in warm covers, and dim lights, I wondered, “Maybe God knows I would make a horrible mother and that’s why this happened. Maybe, it’s because I was a bad person in a past life or because I should have been born a boy. Maybe, it’s because the doctor made a mistake. Maybe….”

These thoughts raced through my mind shortly after my hysterectomy. They ripped and raged at my heart. I didn’t understand what a lifetime of barrenness would look like, but oh boy, did I believe that I was destined for shame, anguish and never being a mother. I understand now that these dark whispers were not of God but of the face of darkness. They were from the Enemy, who likes to nip and chew at every single vessel and cell of our existence.

I carried around this heavy blanket of thoughts for many years. It seems odd to even call it a blanket, though. When we think of blankets, we think, “warm, soft and comforting”. However, like a blanket, these thoughts wrapped themselves around me and engulfed my body. Soon, I began to cling to them – much like a child clings to a blanket. After all, I was a child when barrenness knocked on my door.

These thoughts often brought shame, confusion and resentment towards a supposedly loving God. Even after all of these years and being a parent, I still have moments where my mind escapes back to those nights in my bed and of the times where I could not stop the tears from flowing. Besides, why would any loving Father ever allow this?

The truth is that I am the least likely to be typing this and to be speaking of spiritual freedom. I am the least likely to work with children, promote the importance of adoption, advocate for foster children, share in support of foster families and play a small part in the molding of new families. I am the least to be doing any of this.

The reality is that I had already envisioned a life minus anything to do with children. It just hit too close to home. I went to college and got a degree in Gerontology – the study of aging. I didn’t want anything to do with children. I even told my mom, “I don’t want to work with children; especially abused and neglected children.”

(I’ve since learned that we shouldn’t tell the Lord what we won’t do.)

I often recall those moments in time where I wondered what in the heck I was going to do about all of this trauma – medical and barrenness. I believe that these are the times when the Enemy wants to steal progress and remind us only of what we struggle with, what breaks our hearts and where our fears lie.

Still….the Lord is there to hush those whispers and calm the waves of painful remembrance.

Ending up in child welfare (because the Lord closed every single door until the one to child welfare opened up), being around children, and working with kiddos who needed homes, forced me to confront that part of my life that I had always hidden away; never showing to others what I was dealing with. This is why I am the least likely.

God takes the least, wipes the slate clean, clears the fog and reveals a truth that pierces through the darkest of places in our hearts. It was He who put me in child welfare. It is He who has kept me in it. It is He who continuously reveals so much of who He is and who I am in Him. It is He who hushed those horrible, slithering whispers that tried to capture a future without children. It is He who took a hold of my barrenness and threw it off of me; declaring a new identity.

Imagine being bound by chains of self-doubt, grief, and angst. Now, imagine those chains being broken. This is what the Lord is capable of.

Yes, I am the least likely to testify that a faithful and all-knowing God took a hold of my barrenness and shaped it into what my life is today. I am the least likely to proclaim that motherhood is important, infertility is not a result of being a bad person, and that God is out to punish us all.

It is just the opposite. Listen closely.

The VERY thing that the Enemy used to devour my spirit, the Lord used to not only create a new life but also to fill it with exactly the opposite of what the Enemy desired.

The Lord took what ripped my heart out and turned it into a lifetime of devotion of working on the behalf of children. He took the biggest void in my life and blessed me.

What was meant to harm…meant to steal…meant to bound…was turned into a revelation of the all-consuming love of God. It turned into that incredible feeling of true freedom – know that you are exactly who the Lord intended for you to be and that you are living out His story of your life. Not only did it become a revelation, it evolved into a lifetime of doing the exact opposite of what the Enemy wanted.

Did you read that clearly? A complete opposite of what the Enemy wanted.

If you ask me about the presence and proof of God in my life, all I would have to do point you to where I was versus where I am now, and that would be sufficient. None of this happened by accident. It still catches my breath. It still feels so raw and real and beyond belief. For me, the proof of the Lord is revealed daily.

My story. My personal journey. My medical problems, surgeries and barrenness turned into a testimony of what a truly loving and forgiving God can do. My life is an example of redemption (over and over again), of the glory of God revealing Himself, and of answered prayer. This is my testimony and I refuse to hide it away.

Yes, I am the least likely to proclaim the beauty of adoption, to advocate for children and to pursue the heart of God. It is not by my works that I am a parent and an advocate for children in need. It is the Lord who is working through my barrenness. It is the Lord who has taken away my doubts about motherhood. It is the Lord who declared Himself in my life. It is He who has sustained me through working in child welfare as long as I have.

Friends, if you are going through something that is tragic, life-changing or appears to have stolen your future, I’ve been there. I understand. While I may not know your exact pain, I do understand how quickly life can change and how rapidly you can succumb to desperate thoughts.

Friends, in Jesus, nothing is impossible. We are made new. In Him, our futures are just getting started. Don’t give up. Your story – whatever it is – may be used to turn future generations to faith.

If you met me many years ago, I would have convinced you that I am the least likely to talk about spiritual warfare and the faithfulness of God. It is not that I didn’t believe in that stuff. I just didn’t want to feel it. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to do the hard work to discover myself and the Lord in it. I wasn’t ready.

I am the least likely to share any of this, but… the Lord has this incredible habit of taking the least and using them to proclaim the full measure of His grace.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.” -John 15:5-8

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This thought has raced through my mind this week. I’ve sat on my bed, saddened, throwing my hands up in the air and thinking, “This is not what it’s supposed to feel like. This is not normal. I want to do normal things with my kids. I want to be able to take them to a late night event without worrying about giving medication or some medication wearing off, or some crazy, impulsive act, or some reaction from an attempt to grow closer.”

Following several rough days in a row that accumulated into a punch to the chest by one of my children, my first reaction was to lash out (which I did not do). My second reaction was to consider why the whole event happened in the first place.

Maybe, it is my child.

Maybe, it is me.

Going backwards in my mind to before I chose to become a parent through adoption, I always believed I would be the kind of mom that embraced every single soft moment with my children. I wanted so desperately to pass on the tender moments that my mother passed on to me; those moments that will always be cemented in my psyche and so treasured in my heart.

Yes, of course, I do treasure these moments that I have with my kiddos but honestly, the soft moments are not as common as the hard ones. The mere fact I am even having to come to grips with losing my idea of what motherhood means, and replacing it with the kind of motherhood my children need, does not fall lightly on my heart.

Sometimes, I feel like anything but a mom, but instead, like a bit of a drill sergeant. Even after all of these years, it doesn’t feel natural or good or anything like what I wanted or what I envisioned parenting would be like.

Don’t get me wrong, though. My love for my children is fierce. I know that children are not perfect. Parents are not perfect. I get it. However, when one chooses to embrace the call to adopt children who come from difficult and hard places, it is no longer about perfection. It cannot be. To believe this is to believe a lie.

Forget the bubbly, rose-colored glasses, sweet moments. Forget the tender moments you recall as a child with your mother. Forget what you thought motherhood would be.

Instead, replace the mom you thought you would be with the mom your children need.

To be honest, it is heart-breaking. It is frustrating. It completely consumes you. To worry about behavioral issues, impulsiveness, attachment issues, developmental delays, poor self-esteem, aggressive tendencies, appointments with doctor after doctor, meetings at school, appointments with counselors, and medication management, the Mamma you thought you would be seems to disappear.

However, do you want to know what keeps me going? It is the intrinsic belief that it is up to me to be the kind of mother my children need…to replace the mom I thought I would be with the mom my children need. It is the belief that every single moment of my life leading up to the moment I became the mother of my children was not a mistake. In many ways, all of those moments prepared me for it.

My children need me to be steadfast, an advocate, understanding of trauma and various other issues, gentle with adoption, humble when it comes to getting that I won’t truly understand it all, and never, ever giving up. One of my favorite quotes about the adoption experience is this,

“Adoption is a beautiful picture of redemption. It is the Gospel in my living room.” -Katie J. Davis

That is how I see it.

Redemptive.

Understanding that it is only by grace that any of us get up each day and keep moving forward.

Not throwing in the towel when it gets hard and it hurts.

Looking at your child and knowing how much he or she means to the Lord.

It will never be easy – ever. It will break your heart more times than you can count, but it is truly living out the message of the Gospel while also dwelling in the awareness of our own adoption story.

Replacing The Mom I Thought I Would Be With The Mom My Children Need…

Yes. It’s a work-in-progress and I suspect it will be until they are all adults and beyond. I am also a work-in-progress; a Mamma who is far from perfect but one who absolutely would lay down her life for her children.

One who is need of redemption on a daily basis.

One who gets that the best way to help her children is to heal herself and replace the fantasy of what she thought it would be like and replace it with the mamma who knows what it is to raise kiddos with extra needs.

Yes. I am saying good-bye to the Mom I thought I would be.

I am saying hello to the one my children need.

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We were in love the minute we saw him. The nurse rolled up a little, round peach of a baby and announced his name. The crazy and surreal experience of waking up without a baby and going home with one is something that foster parents can relate to. By the end of the evening, we were mesmerized by him. Our hearts were completely captured and dare I say it? We were instantly in love.

Fast forward 72 hours. After a weekend of parents and friends stopping by to visit and discovering the joy of caring for a newborn, I received a call. When you are a foster parent and the number of your case worker shows up unexpectedly on your phone, there is a bit of anxiety that runs through you body.

“Hello.”

“Caroline, I just want to let you know that we found a relative and I think she’s going to pass the home study so it looks like we will be moving him in about 90 days.”

“Oh. Okay. Great. I’ll be at the next meeting. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Goodbye.”

…Silence…

As soon as I hung up the phone, I stood in front of our little one asleep in his crib and then, I collapsed. With hands held high and knees to the ground, I said, “Lord, your will be done. Your will be done but if this is your will, you have to carry me through this. You have to help me through this.”

Tears.

Shaking.

Hands held high hovering and praying over the baby that we had fallen so much in love with.

In that miserable and silent moment, these words were whispered,

“Caroline. It’s not about you.”

Wait…what?

“It’s not about you.”

This moment in time will forever be sketched in my mind. I was vulnerable and tired and just felt that FINALLY I had a baby I could potentially believe was mine. I knew that there were no guarantees with fostering. I knew that this child was not “ours”. I also knew that we had to do our due-diligence to support the biological parents and hike the terrain of foster care. I knew all of this, but I did not fully realize how this whole experience was never about me in the first place. It felt like it was supposed to be about me.

I know that sounds selfish. I know it seems backwards. I also know that it is very human to feel that way.

The Lord spoke to me while I was a crumpled, weeping mess in front of a sleeping baby that was already loved by two mammas. He gently reminded me that fostering was not about me. This carried me through each moment, step-by-step, until our adoption almost two years later.

Now, nearly nine years following our first adoption, these words still linger in my heart. Two more kids; many years of laughter and of joy, of thankfulness and questioning, I still hear, “It’s not about you.”

Our three beloved children are wonderful and unique. They are wanted and precious. They are “ours” through and through. Yet, it is not easy. We deal with behavioral issues. We manage medications. We answer tough, heart-breaking questions.

We have extreme defiance. We have hyperactivity and impulsiveness. We have a learning disorder and developmental delays. We go to bed weary. We worry and wonder what the future might bring.

We get rejected. We seem to live through it all. Somehow.

We do this all because it’s not about us. It’s never really been about us.

I’m not the kind of person who will ever paint the realities of life in a rose-colored glasses kind of way. Doing so is a disservice and I just don’t think it’s right. Folks, adoption is hard. Raising kids with extra needs is hard.

There really is no comparison to that of a broken-hearted Mamma; one who wants to transfer her own lessons learned from her Mamma but can’t seem to do it because the messages are not well-received, don’t seem to apply and do not take into consideration the needs of her children.

Despite the struggles and the daily trials, I get up each day believing that, “Maybe, today is the day that he will do things more independently. Maybe, today is the day that she will open her heart and really listen to me. Maybe, today is the day that he won’t have meltdowns. Maybe, today is the day that we will have peace in our house.”

You know what is profound to me? I know that what I experience is minimal compared to the heartbreak that the Lord must feel. I wonder if He feels the same way when we (His children) reject Him on a daily basis. I wonder if He thinks, “Maybe, today is the day…”.

When thinking about the unique experience of parenting through adoption, I know that there is a deep connection to our own relationship with God. We are adopted. We reject Him. We struggle on a daily basis with following Him. We fight. We spit. We struggle. When Jesus hung on that dreadful and glorious Cross, it wasn’t about Him. It was all about us. Jesus took the hard road and He did it for love.

If there is one message that needs to be spread regarding foster parenting and parenting via adoption, it should always be that it is never about us parents. It is always about the children we are fortunate to raise, despite the hardships.

Our example is Jesus. He took up the Cross for His children and for love. He did the hard thing.

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Looking for a new book about foster care and adoption to read? Look no more!

Mike Berry of Confessions of an Adoptive Parent Blog has just released his newest book titled, “Confessions of an Adoptive Parent: Hope and Help from the Trenches of Foster Care and Adoption”.

Friends, if there is one book you read about the realities of foster parenting and adoption, it should be this one. I was extremely moved, encouraged and validated by his words. You can find my review of the book by clicking on this link: Confessions of an Adoptive Parent Book

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Happy Adoption Anniversary, Sweetie! It’s been eight years since we were declared your forever parents; the ones who would walk you through the rough times and celebrate with you in the good ones.

There has been some rough times, hasn’t there? There has also been some incredible times. I know this. You do, too.

I watch you. I see the way you watch my every move, as well. There is great pressure raising a girl in this world; raising one who is strong enough to be fierce when it matters and soft enough to be empathetic when no one else will. Well, I’m here to proclaim that you are both of these things. You’re fierce when you need to be and you are soft when it is necessary. (Although, Mommy wishes you were a little more soft with me…especially when our shared strong-wills clash.)

It’s different raising a daughter. Not bad, just different. Us girls are complicated. We feel every ounce of emotion that enters our psyches. We over think and overthink until our brains are just done. We love big and we grieve big. Often, we are our worse critics.

It’s because of this that I want to tell you to never underestimate yourself. Allow those strong emotions to come but do so in a way that will always respect yourself and those in your life who matter. Don’t stop grieving for the homeless and others who are in a bad place. That kind of empathy may not be rewarded on this Earth, but I believe it will be in Heaven.

Stick to your guns. Stand up for what you believe in. Don’t shy away from expressing your opinion (even when it’s not how others think you should feel). Don’t give yourself away; to a job, to men, to anyone. It’s hard to get yourself back once you do.

You, by far, have challenged me more than your brothers. However, you, by far, have taught me more about myself and about this parenting life. You question everything. I mean EVERYTHING. Don’t stop doing that.

You leave me nearly exhausted each day but you also give me the gumption to get up at each new dawn and try harder. This, sweetie. This is what it is like to watch your heart dance and prance around in the form of a little girl. This is both challenging and incredible all at the same time.

It’s been eight years since the Judge declared you to be our forever daughter; although you were always “ours” from the minute you were brought to our home. I need you to know that I’m constantly thinking of you. I’m constantly considering how I can make a positive impact in your life and how I can protect you from the harshness of this world.

Yes, it’s been eight years since the Judge declared you to be ours forever, but to me, time is sifting by at too quick of a pace. If there is anything I can teach you, it is this.

What you are right now is not who you will be in the future. You will grow and stretch and sometimes, it won’t feel good, but it will be good for you. Life is neither easy or hard. It is both at the same time.

There will be times when you feel less than the girl sitting next to you. There will be other times when you feel that you can climb the highest of mountains with ease. Both are relevant, but both are fleeting.

No matter what, always remember that as much as we love you, you have a Heavenly Father who loves you more. Our love will never compare to His. While we are your parents, you belong to Him. He knew you before we did. He knew you when you were in your birth mother’s womb. He was present when you were born. (We were not and that is something that has always grieved my own heart.) You are wanted and you are cherished by us and by the Lord. Don’t ever forget that.

It’s been eight years since the Judge declared us as your forever parents; eight years of laughter and tears. Eight years of talking-back and saying “I’m sorry”. I literally cannot imagine my life without you. These years seem to have come and gone so fast.

Eight years from now…well…I don’t even want to think about that, yet.

Happy Adoption Anniversary, Sweetie.

We love you.

We always have.

We always will.

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I remember it as if it happened yesterday. After our adoption of our daughter in 2010, family and friends gathered a local Starbucks to celebrate. It was obvious that we were a happy bunch by the joy and laughter going on.

The barista behind the counter asked, “Are you celebrating something?” I said, “Yes. We just adopted our second child.” He then said, “That’s great. Are you going to have children of your own, too?”

I responded with, “Our children are our own.” “Oh,” he said. “Well, congratulations.”

I always try to give people the benefit of the doubt when it comes to questions about foster care, adoption, and infertility. I really do. I’ve heard some doozies over the course of my lifetime of barrenness; ones that just ripped right into my heart. Yet, I try my best to respond in a manner that is both respectful and educational. After all, if we (foster/adoptive parents) want respect, we need to show it. Plus, knowledge really is a powerful tool in helping to expand someone’s worldview.

Children who enter our lives, often through the tragedy of brokenness, are not replacements or an after-thought. These precious souls are each born with their unique talents, challenges, and personalities. Their histories are sometimes scarred but their futures are limitless. The tapestries of their lives are weaved with love, loss and that incredibly soul-inspiring notion that there is always hope.

Adoption is beautiful and heart-breaking. It is humbling and faith-building. It is joy and laughter and tears all wrapped up in one. It is a whole lot of things but it will never be second-best. It is the path to parenthood that many families facing infertility choose to walk down. It is a choice. It is not easy and can be wrought with many unknowns. Yet, each step is padded with the firm belief that adoption is a distinguished road not for the faint-of-heart but for the faithful one.

When following the command to care for orphans and the least-of-these, we should also look in the mirror and know that we, too, were orphans. The Lord said, “I chose you”. Not only are we chosen, we are cherished and known to our Father in Heaven. I believe that Jesus had you and me on His mind when He carried that burdensome cross up the hill towards our salvation. If I thought for one minute that adoption is second-best, I fear the glory and humbling essence of belonging to our Heavenly Father would be trivialized.

But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. -Galatians 4:4-5

Each child in need of adoption is a treasure to the Lord; worth more than gold or the greatest riches on Earth. To Him, they are not second-best. When I look into the eyes of my children, I do not see a secondary option. No. I see a longing fulfilled, redemption and the scripting of life without the borders that humans like to establish. I see children who are worth it.

Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. -Luke 12:7

Is adoption second best to having a biological child? I don’t think so. Instead, I believe that adoption is a predestination lovingly anointed with the mystery and power of the Lord. When I hear people comment about adoption being less than giving birth to a child or just a fallback plan, I cringe. Friends, these thoughts are the whispers of the enemy trying to sabotage what our Father holds so dear. The Enemy wants to destroy families. He wants to bind children. He wants to remind us of our own loss. He wants to complicate the calling on our lives to care for orphans.

However, the voice of the Lord is stronger and more powerful. He calls us upon the seas. He asks us to tread where others fear to go. He seeks the willing. He equips the courageous. He does this in the name of love. If we believe in this, then how can we ever accept adoption as second best?

To the hipster dude at Starbucks, it’s okay. I’ve long forgiven you for questioning whether I would have my “own” children. Just know that my children – the ones who the Lord declared and prepared for my life – are mine. They are not second-best. They never have been. They never will be.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. -Psalm 139:13-16

Note: This was written as a guest post featured on the blog, Mess Into a Message Blog and can be viewed there along with other thought-provoking posts by the author of “Mess Into a Message”.

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Right outside the main gate of Ancient Ephesus, there was a hill that acted as a – for lack of a better word – “baby dump.” It was a pagan society and when an unwanted baby was born, it was dumped up on the hill and left to die. Archeologists have found that often times these babies had deformities – or what our current culture would label, “special needs.” And other times, the child was just unplanned or unwanted. Ephesus also operated with a mindset that required you to live up to a certain standard…to look and act a certain way…beauty = worth. Therefore, if you birthed a baby with special needs, there was a lot of pressure and judgment placed on you.

Sound at all familiar?

With this evil and utterly disgusting practice in Ephesus, ancient writings suggest that early Christians would head up that hill to rescue the babies who were left to die and to adopt them as their own.

Isn’t that a beautiful image amongst a gruesome scene?

Now, I am no Bible scholar and I don’t know much more than that about the background of Ephesus during that time…(a friend and pastor at our local church shared all of that with me) but can you imagine what the culture must have thought? If they witnessed these early Christians trekking up that hill to rescue these “unwanted” children? They must have thought they were crazy. Why would they choose a hard, “against-the-grain” life by seeking after these children and choosing to make them their own?

I often feel that way as a foster parent. Many people don’t “get it.” They don’t get WHY we became foster parents. WHY we choose hard. WHY we would choose to welcome a child that required over 40 medical appointments in his first 8 weeks of life… Or simply why we would choose to sacrifice our time, our resources, our family dynamic for the “mess” of another’s.

Our culture often doesn’t “get” why an expecting family chooses to carry out the pregnancy they’ve been told will result in a still-born baby. WHY the expecting family chooses to bring their baby, diagnosed with Down’s syndrome, into the world when they learned of the diagnosis with plenty of time to terminate. WHY the comfortable family pays $40,000 to head to China to adopt a special needs child. WHY the foster family adopts a sibling group of 5 with trauma backgrounds that will lead them into endless amounts of therapy.

Why?

Because we were once a needy, blemished child on that hill crying out to be rescued. Our Savior heard our cries, and He climbed that hill to come get us.

In Acts, after Pentecost, Peter and John – filled with the Holy Spirit – proclaim the gospel and teach about Jesus’ resurrection. They heal a crippled man proclaiming to have done it in the name of Jesus. The rulers, elders, and scribes were astonished…they recognized they had been with Jesus…but they wanted them gone because they were afraid of losing their power or influence. They talked with each other and said, “What shall we do with these men?” (Acts 4:16)

They witnessed miracles in the name of Jesus but they didn’t like it. They didn’t want it to be true…it didn’t ﬁt with their culture or nicely into their standard boxes. Peter and John’s boldness threatened their lifestyle. These “Jesus people” were proclaiming to do things in the name of Jesus? With his help and power? What!? Well, that’s just uncomfortable.

Our culture and society today are often uncomfortable with this same boldness. In a world that strives for comfort, the “American dream,” biological children FIRST, adoption as a last resort, “my body, my choice,” and any other comfort inducing mindset…the idea of choosing the hard, choosing to live “against-the-grain” of what is typically acceptable, choosing to love sacriﬁcially like Jesus…is well, uncomfortable and not ideal.

Might we stand against this societal strive for comfort and be people that our society and our culture “doesn’t know what to do with.” Might we proclaim the Gospel in word and deed.

Might we make our local foster care agency not know what to do with us as we step into the muck of foster care and love birth families beyond what makes sense.

Might we make our world around us scratch their heads and not know what to do with us as we literally go to the ends of the earth to willingly adopt the “unwanted.”

Might we make doctors and nurses scratch their heads and not know what do with us as we turn down their offensive oﬀer to terminate and instead lovingly and excitedly choose to carry our special needs child to term and deliver them into this world.

Might we be the people headed up the hill to rescue the blemished children in the name of Jesus and by the power of His Spirit…knowing ourselves what it feels like to be rescued and adopted as sons through Jesus Christ (Acts 1:5).

Might we do none of these things out of charity, but out of love for Jesus.

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I love this picture of my dad and my oldest son sharing a shake when he was just a little guy. We fostered him for close to two years and we all underestimated how deeply we would fall in love. We didn’t know how hard the road would be or how complex feelings are when you want biological parents to succeed; yet, you also want so desperately to hold on to the kiddo that captured your heart. It was close to two years before we were declared his (legal) family and on that day, our entire family exhaled a collective sigh of relief, belief, and appreciation.

My parents absolutely 100% poured everything they could into our children while we were fostering them. They did so with zero promise that they would be their “forever” grandparents. Looking back, it seems a bit selfish to have asked them to do this. Their instant adoration upon meeting our babies was apparent and a bit heartbreaking. They understood that reunification was the goal but it didn’t make things easier. They asked “when will you know anything” for months upon months. Yet, we could not promise anything nor could we give a lot of details.

With each step, our parents just went with the flow. I saw the concern in their eyes. I saw the worry covering their expressions. Even so, our parents accepted, celebrated and cherished each child and each moment with them as if it would be their last.

Foster care and adoption brought us closer as a family. We were stretched in faith and in our worldview about what family means.

We know that FAMILY is more than blood.

LOVE is not defined by DNA.

Children are the best GIFTS anyone could ask for, regardless of how they come into your life.

Most people remarked about how hard it must have been for us to love our children without knowing what would happen or how long they would be in our lives. To say it was hard is quite an understatement. It was painful, full of worry and just plain exhausting.

Looking back, I recognize that no one really asked how our parents were holding up. Sure, we were asked a lot. We were offered prayer and assistance. Our parents, however, were not. At least, not to the level that we were. Yet, fostering is hard for the entire family.

Grandparents (aka – the parents of foster parents) play an oh-so-important role in the life of a foster child. They attend birthday parties, help out when one is sick, celebrate holidays, bake that special little goodie that the child devours, and nurtures the child just like most grandparents do. They do all of this even while knowing how devastating it would be to lose the child they have grown to love. They also do all of this with the knowledge that reunification is a part of foster care and absolutely does happen in a lot of situations.

If reunification occurs (and it should if the biological parents are healthy and able), not only do the foster parents grieve the child moving (even though they are aware this is a reality), grandparents also grieve, worry and wonder about the child’s future. It’s a loss that is manageable but also life-changing.

Will the child remember them?

Will they ever see that ornery little girl with dimples in her cheeks or that sweet little boy whose eyes could melt the world again?

Will that spunky 6-yr-old think back fondly of baking cookies or playing catch with “grandma and grandpa”?

Will that pre-teen still yearn to hear “grandpa’s” goofy jokes?

Will that teenager call when he needs some advice?

Will they know how deeply they were cherished and loved?

Foster parenting affects the parents of those who foster and anyone else who is a part of the child’s life.

If your son or daughter is a foster parent, you know how it has affected your life. You have so many questions that have to go unanswered. Your heart breaks with pain and leaps with joy all within a few days. You did not sign up for this. Sure, you were excited and worried all at the same time but you really had no idea what to expect. You get frustrated, even angry, as you watch your child ride an incomparable wave of emotion.

Your support during the tough times and your willingness to listen is so important. Of course, a few nights of babysitting always come in handy but at the end of the day, your unwavering commitment to be there during the bad days and the good ones is vital.

Even when you are anxious and angry, you put on a brave face. Instead of showing your sorrow, you lie in bed at night thinking about the love that has entered your life. You fear what could happen in everyone’s lives – yours, your child’s and the little one that you adore.

If your son or daughter is a foster parent, I hope you know how valuable you are. Like our parents and the untold numbers of other out there, your input in a child’s life increases the output of love they will feel. You matter.

Thank you for loving (foster) children without the promise of tomorrow.

Just know that what you do for the life of a child can change the course of history for generations.

This is something we should all be thankful for.

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I wish I could tell you that it is “easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy” (as my 5-yr-old likes to say) to parent children who have been adopted or to be a foster parent. I’d love to say that once a child enters your home either for foster care or adoption, all problems go away and it’s just downhill and smooth-sailing from there. It would be fantastic for me to declare that I never second-guess myself and that we are all about lollipops, rainbows, and laughter. However, if I were to say any of these things, my words would be false. They would not bear a truthful witness to what it is to be a parent through adoption.

A few months ago, I started praying/speaking these words to God, “What do you want me to do with my life?” “What do you want from me?” One morning while praying, I heard the words, “BE BOLD.” A little startled at the immediate response, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“BE BOLD.” The words were clear, concise and not complicated.

Several months have passed and to be honest, I just kind of ignored this answer. I know the Lord told me to be bold but it was just too simple of a declaration. I am a detail-oriented person and the two-word response to my prayer just didn’t cut it.

With the dawning of a New Year, the Lord’s answer of “Be bold” has never strayed too far from my mind. I wonder, friend, if His words are not only meant for my ears but also for yours.

For prospective foster and adoptive families, you need to know that being bold is imperative. It’s more than just declaring an injustice in what you are witnessing. It requires a stillness of faith AND a movement of courage.

Being bold, in the sight of others who do not understand, is necessary.

When you are asked, “Why in the world would you want to do that?”, be bold.

When people say to you, “I would never subject my own kids to that”, be bold.

When you are quivering in fear over what is going to happen with a child you love, be bold.

When you have the opportunity to love on biological parents, please, by all means, be bold.

Foster parenting and adoption both have this funny way of knocking people to their knees. We fall down time and again, but we get up. We wonder what we are doing and why in the heck are we doing it, but we keep on. In the face of many obstacles and trials, we stand up. We are bold.

When parenting children who come from extremely difficult situations, we learn of our own blessings and our own stumbling blocks. Their histories collide with ours and we realize how different life could have been for us if we were handed down the same hardships these children have been dealt.

I know the saying of “What would happen if you weren’t afraid?” It’s fine and everything but I like this version better: “What would happen if you were bold?”

Since we have such a hope, we are very bold… -2nd Corinthians 3:12

How could your courage and boldness literally change the course of a child’s or adult’s life?

What would your boldness show to children who look up to you?

How could you make an eternal difference for someone?

What if you took that darned thing called infertility, grabbed it by the neck and said, “No. I’m not going down that way”?

What if you become a foster parent and take in kiddos that absolutely soak up your love and attention?

What if you step outside of your preconceived comfort zone and foster a large sibling group, older youth or ones with special needs?

What could happen if you decide tomorrow to wake up declaring that boldness is the only way to live?

We are well on our way into 2018. We don’t know what we will have to face or overcome as the year unfolds but let’s live this year with a boldness that leaves an impression.

Shine your light, friends.

In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. – Matthew 5:16

If you are considering foster care or adoption, my wish is that fear would not stop you. It isn’t easy, but it is so worth.

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About Me

Hello, friend! My name is Caroline. I'm a wife and mother of three children. In 1983, at the age of eleven, I became gravely ill and ended up needing an emergency hysterectomy. I am blessed by the adoption of my children and have great peace with my "lot in life".
I am deeply passionate about encouraging others struggling with infertility and about advocacy for foster care (two of our kids were adopted out of foster care). I no longer consider myself barren. I consider myself fruitful, joyful, whole and blessed.
Photo Credit: Randy Bacon, Photographer www.7billionones.org